Never Love Again
by Unabashed Dreams
Summary: Take care of him. It's all she had asked. *A Short ONE-SHOT*


She pulled her bow from her back and nocked an arrow, aiming it as she rode through the gates of the fortress. She was unsure of what she would find there, and she was taking no chances. Leliana's letter said that they had completely taken over Adamant since laying siege on it and the subsequent disappearance of their Inquisitor—_since the disappearance of Alistair_—but she was cautious none the less. She was ready to kill anyone who tried to stop her. Because _no one_ would stop her from reaching her destination. And no one did. Most of those within the gates just stared at her, however. The ones who weren't staring, let out shouts of surprise and shock at her sudden approach on horseback. Slowing to a stop, she disarmed the bow, strung it across her back, and dismounted the horse quickly. With both feet on the ground, she pulled off the scarf she had tied around her face in order to protect it from the wind and dirt during her ride. The rush of whispers spreading through the crowd was immediate.

_"__Is that . . .?" _

_"__Could it be?" _

_"__The woman—the Warden—who stopped the Blight." _

_"__The Hero of Ferelden!"_

She ignored it all as she turned to the man closest to her. His tan face was hidden behind a black beard, and his chest behind a plate of armor that was fitting for a farmer. "Alistair?" She asked anxiously, hoping he would recognize the name—know who she was talking about. When he shook his head and shrugged, she groaned with frustration. "Your Inquisitor? Has she returned? And the Warden she was traveling with . . . they were here. They—"

"Through there," he said suddenly, his eyes lighting up as he pointed to a large door behind her. "Last I heard, the Inquisitor and the group she was with . . . they're still gone. Vanished into thin air, they did. Saw it myself from the ground here. They were up on the battlements fighting—" he turned to point up behind him at a section that had been severely destroyed. Her stomach dropped, her heart filling with dread just looking at it. "—when a large dragon came out of nowhere. Something must've injured it, cause it smashed through the wall and fell. Saw three bodies falling after it. Bright flash of green light and a giant black hole later, and they were gone."

She felt sick. A dragon . . . falling off the battlements . . . her heart was sinking slowly into her stomach. Shaking her head, unable to respond, she backed away; her need to find Alistair more powerful than ever. She ran to the large doors and jerked them open. It was quiet in the massive hall, but behind a set of double doors on her right, she could just hear the whispering. She flew to it and pulled them open. If she were stronger, the force might have unhinged them. As it was, they banged loudly on the walls as they bounced off them.

She let out a breath.

The room was full of people and they were all looking at her in surprise. She could see Leliana and Morrigan standing together in the center of the room, Hawke close by with her hand clasping tightly to Fenris, and a woman she didn't know—she guessed it was the Inquisitor. They were back then. Her heart skipped a beat, a small feeling of relief flooding her as she began searching other faces for the only one that mattered.

Where was he?

She blinked and shook her head, going slower as she scanned the crowd once more. She looked at each face carefully this time—one by one. It was then that she realized, no one was smiling. And the small flicker of hope she had felt ignite only moments ago, was blown out quicker than a candle in a thunder storm. Her pulse began to race. She shook her head. No—_no! _She felt herself growing frantic as she searched again and again through the sea of people for the one that was hers. She took a step forward, determined to find him—the man she loved more than life itself.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Leliana take a cautious step toward her and her head snapped to meet the eyes of her long time friend. She had not aged much in the past ten years. She was still just as beautiful. Even when crying, Leliana was beautiful. And she _had_ been crying. She could see the puffiness in her face, the red in her eyes, and the dried paths that had traced down her cheeks. But she refused to consider what it meant. Shaking her head, she went back to searching the crowd. _Where was he? _

"Alistair . . . he . . ." Leliana's voice broke. But hearing his name was all it took for her to look once more at her friend. One of her closest. One of her most trusted. Leliana's beautiful face crumbled under her gaze.

And then she knew.

Alistair would never keep her waiting like this. Not ever. He would have wrapped her in his arms the moment she had opened the doors—tripped just in his urgency to get to her. He would have held her tight while trying to convince her that he was all right; kissed her with longing at having missed her as much as she had missed him. And then he'd have laughed at her for worrying about him. He wouldn't be hiding among the crowd, waiting for her to spot him.

She shook her head, the denial overwhelming her as she backed away from Leliana. From everyone. Her heart was pounding in her chest like a team of running horses—her skin like a crackling flame. She thought she might be shaking her head still, but she wasn't sure. She could see someone nearby lean in and say something to the person next to them, but she couldn't hear what it was. She couldn't hear anything.

And then she felt nothing.

Absolutely . . . nothing.

Was that normal?

She barely registered when Morrigan came to stand in front of her. Another friend. The one who had saved both her and Alistair back during the Blight—a debt she would never be able to repay, no matter what she said. Morrigan reached out for her, a grim look on her face—a look of mourning, though not a single tear traced her cheek nor flooded her exotic yellow eyes. She found herself staring down at her friends hand, her brow creasing as she refused to take it. She took another step backward. Her mind was racing, marveling at how Morrigan could possibly be showing more emotion than she was at the moment. Shouldn't _she_ feel something? Anything? All she felt was numb.

She looked around the hall with each step back she took before her eyes fell on the Inquisitor. The woman was thin and tall, and her dark hair was pulled back in a messy bun. Her charred clothes bore the signs of a recent fight. And when their eyes met, she saw in them sadness and guilt.

"I'm sorry," the Inquisitor breathed.

That's all it took.

Agony and sorrow so severe—so incredibly deep—stab into her like a thousand knives. She felt it cut her open and flood into her veins like an erupted volcano intent on seeking vengeance. She wanted to rip her skin off. It hurt . . . _dear Maker_ _it hurt . . ._ so very bad. How—? How could she possibly endure this pain? It was too much! And then she was screaming. But it didn't sound like her. It was surreal—a guttural wail of loss and grief and heartbreak. _Alistair._ Her chest was heaving as she struggled to breathe, her lungs naturally trying to gasp in the breath that she was denying her body. _Alistair couldn't be . . ._ Leliana was kneeling in front of her, trying desperately to get her attention. She couldn't even remember falling to her knees, but as her eyes focused she saw both palms flat against the ground. _Alistair was gone. _And then her elbows buckled the same moment another wave of torturous despair hit her, her head slamming into the stone as she let out another agonizing scream. And then another. She continued screaming through the pain, trying fruitlessly to guard her body from the merciless onslaught of torturous hell that was attacking her. It felt as if she were being punched, kicked, stabbed. Like someone had ripped her heart from her chest.

She was being burned alive.

When she looked up again, she saw the Inquisitor standing just behind Morrigan. The Inquisitor, who Alistair had trusted. _Alistair—_just thinking his name was another blow and she doubled back over, another shriek of pain escaping her lips with her unable to stop it. Somewhere behind her, someone was touching her back—rubbing it in an attempt to soothe her—but it was wrong. It wasn't Alistair. Gritting her teeth, she forced herself to her feet and away from whoever was attempting to make her feel better. Leliana was by her side in an instant, however, her arm slipping around her waist to steady her. But she didn't want comfort. She didn't want to be held. Not by her. Not by anyone here. The only person she wanted holding her was—

_Alistair._

_"__One job!"_ She screamed, twisting out of Leliana's grip and spinning on the Inquisitor, who took a step back at her sudden outburst. _"One fucking job!"_ She watched as the woman's jaw set and guards rushed forward to protect her. The Inquisitor shook her head and pushed her way through them, coming to a stop in front of her. Staring at the woman, she could feel the hatred for her burning as painfully as her loss. "Take care of him . . ." Her voice broke on the last word, and tears cascaded down her cheeks like a burst dam. Her breath was ragged as the rage continued to pulse through her. "That's the one thing I asked of you—_take care of him!" _It came out a screech that silenced the already quiet hall.

The Inquisitors lip quivered, but this only angered her more. This woman didn't get to be sad! _She _didn't get to mourn! As if hearing her thoughts, the Inquisitor shook her head and looked back at Hawke. "It was Alistair's choice." She breathed, her voice hitching. "He chose to give us a chance—"

And then the Inquisitor was reeling backward, gripping her jaw from the blow to her face. "_I _was his choice!" She screamed at the woman, taking a step forward, ready to hit her again. "He would never _choose _to leave me! Not ever! He—" she clutched at her heart, gasping in pain as she registered the sudden hollowness of her chest. Would it ever beat again? "He—" she felt empty. Alone. "He wouldn't do that." The fight left her as soon as it came, and she was falling again. Sitting on her knees, she looked up a the woman, the Inquisitor. "Bring him back to me," she pleaded. Her voice was barely above a whisper. "You took him from me . . ." Her lip quivered and her body shook with agony. The pain was unbearable. "Bring him back. Please. Please bring him back to me. You _must_ do this for me. I beg you . . . _please_."

"I . . . I can't."

Around her, she heard shouts. She felt hands on her. She heard Leliana's voice. She ignored it all as she lowered herself to the cold stone ground and brought her knees to her chest. There was nothing left for her here. He was gone. He was—_Maker, please give him back to me . . . Give him back._

But the Maker wasn't listening.

The Maker didn't care.

And she would never love again.

* * *

_**AN: **Let me know what you think! _


End file.
